


Live another day

by Blossom_Strife



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Kamski is probably a god, MC wasn't originally the reader, Other, Reincarnation, and i enjoyed writing it i guess, but i wasnt going to post this, everything changes i guess, its a 5+1 though, its too long for a oneshot whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 17:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18168320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blossom_Strife/pseuds/Blossom_Strife
Summary: "“You won’t be here for much longer, will you? This is where everything ends. But you part from this world too soon.” He pauses, and you hear him sit down on the chair Hank was previously on, and a rustle that you assume is him putting your necklace into his pocket. “I’m going to give you another chance. Five more, to be exact. Your future does not look pretty, I must say. I won’t let you suffer alone though. He will remember too. He will get his chance to live his life with you to the fullest. The fifth however, is up to fate to decide. I will be there to guide you, of course. But when your chances are up, I cannot control how your end is decided. Don’t fuck this up.” He stands with barely a sound, his footsteps no more than whispers across the floor, and as the door shuts, you fall back into unconsciousness."





	Live another day

**Author's Note:**

> actually beta'd this time ayo

### i.

 

When you come to, you aren’t really awake. You can hear what’s going on around you, but you can’t open your eyes to look around, can’t move your fingers, and you panic for a moment before you actually remember what happened.

A hit and run.

 

Connor, the self-sacrificing _idiot_ that he is decided that he needed to protect you, and as soon as you think of it, the only thing you can hear is his pained, hoarse scream, his weight over you, and the crushing pain of being hit by a goddamn car. The panic comes back then, your heart-rate raising, and there’s a piercing beeping sound that cuts through all the noise in your head. There’s a voice somewhere from your right, soothing and calm, masculine but not right- not his, but it’s still gives you something to focus on, something to cling onto until you can actually make out the words that are being spoken.

 

“-n tell you what happened but please, trust me when I say you’re safe now.” Hank. Connor’s adoptive dad. He’s always been there for the two of you, and you can make out the tremble in his voice that never means anything good.

 

“Are you sure telling them is a good idea?” A voice you don’t recognise, and they don’t sound like a doctor.

 

“They need to know. I can’t not tell them.”

 

“You can wait for a while to tell them though. It’s likely that the news will send them into enough shock that they may die.”

 

“Wouldn’t that be better for them?” You can hear the tears in Hank’s voice, and you ache with the need to grip his hand back, to reach out and comfort him. “He was their everything. You could see it every single time they saw each other. Hell, even when they were apart they never stopped talking about each other.” ...He? You wonder if they’re talking about Connor.

 

“And I understand that, Hank, but they deserve another chance to live.”

 

“I appreciate your opinion, but they deserve to know more than anyone else.”

 

“Alright. I’ll give you a minute alone with them.” Footsteps, then the door softly shutting. Hank takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shakily.

 

“I don’t know how to tell you this gently but uh…” he pauses, takes another breath, “Connor didn’t make it. They said he was killed on impact, his body was curled around yours when they got there, so they suspect  he was doing his best to protect you. And you’re here. Still living on. He gave his life for yours and-” Hank pauses, and you can hear him crying, softly sobbing because now he’s lost a second son to a car accident. “I’m not mad at you, just so you know. I know you wouldn’t want him to have died for your sake either.” He sniffles, and you find yourself again wanting to comfort him, to tell him it’s alright despite the growing pit of nothingness that threatens to overflow and swallow you whole. Because the stranger was right earlier, when he said the news would be your death.

 

Hank says nothing more, and the door opens quietly.

 

“Hank, go and get a drink, go and clean up. Take your time. I’ll watch over them for you.” A chair scrapes across the floor, Hank’s hands slip from yours, and the door shuts after a few moments. Then it’s just you and the stranger. There’s a tug at the chain around your neck, the necklace that Connor had given you months ago, and it falls away from your neck, and the stranger’s presence goes with it, but not far. There’s a quiet metallic noise as another charm is dropped onto the chain and it hits against the charm that’s already there.

 

“You won’t be here for much longer, will you? This is where everything ends. But you part from this world too soon.” He pauses, and you hear him sit down on the chair Hank was previously on, and a rustle that you assume is him putting your necklace into his pocket. “I’m going to give you another chance. Five more, to be exact. Your future does not look pretty, I must say. I won’t let you suffer alone though. He will remember too. He will get his chance to live his life with you to the fullest. The fifth however, is up to fate to decide. I will be there to guide you, of course. But when your chances are up, I cannot control how your end is decided. Don’t fuck this up.” He stands with barely a sound, his footsteps no more than whispers across the floor, and as the door shuts, you fall back into unconsciousness.

 

Hank is at your side when your monitor runs flat, and in your last moments, you find yourself wishing you had been able to apologise to him for leaving him alone again. After all, your death would mark the third death of someone close to him in under a year.

 

### ii.

The music echoing around the studio is softer than usual, and you slip in through the doors as quietly as you can in an attempt to not disturb your partner. As usual, your fingers smooth over the inside of the ring that the stranger had added to your necklace, feeling the warning engraved beneath as though it were engraved into your skull itself.

‘Blue will be your downfall.’

 

You hadn’t told Connor that the engraving was there, and as he turns to you with a bright smile, you decide you aren’t going to any time soon, and tuck the necklace away.

 

“Hey! I’ve missed you!” You smile, wrapping yourself in his embrace when he gets close enough for you to all but throw yourself at him. He’s been your dance partner for as long as the two of you have been in the international ballet school, and even without that, you trust him more than you could ever trust anyone else.

 

“It’s barely been half an hour, Con. I went to get changed!”

 

“I know, but any time spent away from you is enough for me to miss you.” You smile grows wider, and you press a kiss to the tip of his nose and take half a step backwards, spinning in his arms to the rhythm of the piano.

 

“You’re too sweet, have I ever told you that?”

 

“Not enough, I don’t think.” He replies, balancing you as you go up into a basic arabesque and stealing a kiss before you step out and into a pirouette, ending facing away from Connor.

 

“Well, you’re absolutely too sweet. But, you also mean everything to me, have I ever told you _that_?” You rise up onto the balls of your feet, drag your left foot in for a sous sus, and then bend into a gentle pirouette, using the bend of the knee to give Connor a lift boost as his gently lifts you onto his shoulder.

 

“I don’t think you’ve told me that either.” He replies with a small grin. You snort, leaning to press a kiss to his forehead and allowing him to follow the motion through, sliding you from his shoulder and into a fish dive, one of his arms just under your ribs and the other supporting your top leg.

 

“You mean everything to me and more. This here-” You place your lower foot down and Connor balances you into arabesque so you can spin to face him, “is me telling you that you are everything I could ever want and more, and if you decide that your life is worth more than mine this time you need to step back and think, because last time you decided that it quite literally was the reason I didn’t last longer than I did.” He has the decency to look slightly guilty at that, and you take the chance to step out of his embrace to start doing proper warm-ups.

 

“I thought I told you I’m sorry about that.” He says softly, sitting down with you and helping you stretch out into a box split, gently tugging your legs until your tendons protest.

 

“I know you are but I-” You cut yourself off as unwanted images of bloodied, matted hair, and the weight of his body and the guilt that comes with it fill your head, and you blink them and tears away with a frustrated sigh.

 

“For what it’s worth, if there was a way to get us both out of a situation without getting myself killed that’s what I would choose.” Your chuckle comes out weak, and your hand drops to the ring tucked away under your top, your thumb finding the gem to smooth over.

 

“That’s not a promise we should have to be making, Connor.”

 

“But it’s a promise anyway.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, letting you up as the door to the studio swings open.

 

“I thought I’d find you kids in here.” You give Connor a look that you know he gets the message of - ‘ _we’ll talk more about this later,_ ’ - before you focus all your attention on Hank.

 

“You know us!” you chirp, taking the drinks bottles from Hank and taking a sip of one. “Hank!! I didn’t think you’d actually bring back some alcohol for us!” Connor’s arms snake around your shoulders, and you hand him the other bottle. You both take a mouthful at the same time, swallowing it down before Hank takes the bottles back and tucks them away in the corner of the room.

 

“You kids always need the chance to lighten up a bit. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to actually get in to see you, so think of it as a reunion gift.” You smile at that, and Connor slips away to pull Hank into a hug.

 

“What do you want to dance for warm-up?” You ask, and Connor hums, reaching for his phone to scroll through his music.

 

“I have the song from last year’s main duet dance, if you remember that?”

 

“I think I remember most of it?” You frown, doing a few idle spins as Connor queues up the song.

 

“We can improvise anything you don’t remember, it’s fine.” Connor approaches as the song starts, and you fall into step with him with little effort. The two of you go through the routine in blocks - easing your way into the rhythm of muscle memory, and losing yourself in the gentle motions.

 

The song finishes before you expect it too, a pleasant warmth settling into your muscles as you hold the finishing pose for a few moments. Hank sniffles from his seat by the CD Player, and you spin to face him, running over to wrap him in a hug at his unexpected emotional outburst.

 

“That was beautiful, kid. I can see why they chose you to be the leads if just one dance can bring out so much emotion in a grizzled old man like me.” Laughter bubbles up from your chest in response, and as you step back from the hug Hank smiles.

 

“I didn't realise that watching us dance could have the possibility of causing such a reaction.”

 

“Con, c’mere u big dummy.” He does so, and you press a small kiss to his cheekbone. “People find dance emotional because they can pick up on the emotions that the dancers portray, and seeing such emotion in an emotional piece can bring out the same emotion in the viewers,” Connor nods, a small furrow in his brow, “and sometimes, people get emotional because they're proud, like Hank does.”

 

“You really should come visit us more, dad.” Hank huffs in reply, ruffling Connor’s hair.

 

“Did you forget I live over two hours away from here?”

 

“Well you could always let us pay for a hotel room for you so you can stay longer.” You add, propping your leg up on the barre and stretching out to touch your toes, “It’s not like we have anything better to spend our money on considering we can’t eat buckets of ice cream whenever we want.”

 

“And if you came down more often you might actually be able to get some time off from work?” Connor mirrors your position, and you hear Hank grumble before the sound of a bottle cap being unscrewed.

 

“The law never takes a break kids.”

 

“Yeah, but officers do.” You and Connor reply in sync, having being given the same line every single time Hank actually taking some time off ever came up. The lid goes back on the bottle, and there’s a quiet clink as Hank sets it down next to the other two bottles.

 

“Alright enough of the sass, you two said you had something you wanted to show me?” You swap the leg that’s balanced on the barre and nod.

 

“Yeah, the choreographer helped us finish up a piece that isn’t strictly ballet, and it doesn’t have just one of us as the lift lead,” You explain, swinging your leg down from the barre. “And the company said we could post a rehearsal video onto our social media as a teaser for the actual show.”

 

“And you want me to record it?”

 

“If you could.” Hank smiles fondly, taking the phone Connor offers to him and moving to stand by the mirrors. You connect your own phone to the stereo, loading the song into the queue and then giving the stereo’s remote to Hank for him to start the music once he’s set up.

 

“Thanks, dad.” Connor says quietly as you take your positions, and you know Hank hears it because his small smile grows just that bit bigger.

 

When you [ dance ](https://youtu.be/HlnkqeeC7wA?t=24), everything melts away. All your fears, worries and anxiety fade into nothingness as you get lost in the motion of the dance, the music and the weightless feeling that always surrounds you when you dance with Connor. Despite having only finished choreographing the dance earlier in the day, you feel like each of the motions is burned into your memory, each small touch and smile that passes between you and Connor building up to a piece that is beautiful in every way, and brings tears to Hank’s eyes. The two of you finish with a kiss that is absolutely not choreographed, but excitement of having finally finished a piece that’s truly yours brings happiness swelling in your chest, and you know Connor feels the same because of the almost giggle that bubbles out of him when you part.

 

This time around, everything is perfect.

 

### iii.

 

The room is smokey, and smells of cigars, alcohol and the undertones of fear.

 

Your father may be terrified, but he plays it off exceptionally well, conversing with the other group as though it were a normal meeting with friends, rather than a meeting that could make or break the peace between your mob and Hank’s. Connor sits to your left, and you are both tucked away in the corner, hidden in the shadows, but blending in with cigars in hand. You don’t smoke yours, just let it burn as it hangs from your loose grip. You already know how the meeting will end, have done since it was proposed, and all you’re really doing is waiting for Hank to turn to Connor for his opinion. Then the deal will be sealed, because your father has never really been strong in the face of your own wishes, and you have been using that to your ability since you learned about it.

 

“How long do you think they’ll be able to keep up the pleasantries?” Connor murmurs, taking a drag from his cigar and blowing the smoke out in a row of small rings.

 

“Not much longer,” you reply, tapping off the build up on your still burning cigar, and taking a sip of whiskey, “look at dad’s knuckles. He’ll be asking for my opinion on the matter, and then you’ll be asked to give yours first, and I’ll agree with you and then this whole show will be over and we can get a big public wedding with no expenses spared to prove that we all really want this truce to work and strengthen our families, and then we’ll be shipped off somewhere remote for a week so we can dick around like the children we never got to be this time around.” Connor snorts, nudging your shoulder with his.

 

“Lookit you, so sure of the future.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t expect things to go as you want them to,” One of Hank’s group looks to you and Connor as though he has only just noticed the two of you are there, and you take a long drag from the cigar, blowing the smoke out in a cloud that obscures the two of you from sight. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

 

“Gavin? Yeah, he’s a piece of work. I’m not sure why dad keeps him in the main family considering he refuses to listen to authority.”

 

“He’s a good fighter, I suppose,” The smoke clears up a little, the dark figures coming into focus. “And he’s stubborn. That’s useful in certain situations.” The conversation around you lulls, and Connor places his free hand over the fingers you have been tapping against the table, silencing the sound as everyone in the room looks at Kamski. That's not usually good.

 

“You’re both striving for peace, correct? Have you considered asking your heirs what they think of the situation? They usually have the insight to solve these situations for you, do they not?”

 

_…what?_

 

Hank turns to Connor at the suggestion.

 

_……… what????_

 

“Well, the two of you have been rather quiet. _Do_ you have any suggestions?” You lift your glass to drink another mouthful of whiskey. You _had_ mentioned your plan to Kamski before the meeting, but you've done the same for every meeting, so why is it different this time? Connor’s face twists into a thoughtful expression, and he pauses before posing his idea.

 

“Marriage, perhaps? You always told me to give my most prized possession to prove my sincerity in situations such as this. We’ve been discussing the merits of it,” Connor gestures to you as you place your glass down, “and we thought that having the next posed leaders married would help to keep the peace between our groups for at least another generation after this one.” A quiet murmur breaks out, and everyone in the room seems to have a very, very quick discussion, because by the time your father holds up a hand to silence everyone they're almost silent anyway.

 

“And kiddo,” he looks to you, and you tilt your head in question, “do you agree that this is a means to an end?”

 

“I do, yes.” You tap the ash build up off the end of your cigar, idly lacing your fingers with Connor’s. “And having the two of us together could greatly benefit communication and trade between our groups. After all, we are the ones who rely most messages anyway, marriage would only make that communication more efficient.”

 

“And,” Kamski speaks up again, and everyone in the room turns to look at him, “in the history of your families there have been several peace marriages that have lead your groups to where they are now, so I’d say that points to marriages for peace being very successful, wouldn’t you?” Hank picks up his glass, draining the rest of the whiskey and placing it upside-down on the table. The room follows suit, a chorus of dull thuds following as each glass is placed down. Connor’s hand slips from yours so the two of you can follow suit, your glasses coming down with a final thud that silences the room.

 

“It’s arranged then. We’ll reconvene in a week to discuss terms of the treaty, and the period before the marriage, understood?”

 

“Understood.” Your father and Hank stand, and then clasp each other’s forearms over the table. Connor stands as they let go, pulling out your chair for you to get up as well, and the two of you follow your fathers out of the room. Connor makes a face at you when nobody's looking, and you have to stifle a laugh until you’re out of earshot of the rest of the family before you can let it out, dragging Connor down a nearby empty hall so you can talk out of the way of prying eyes.

 

“So, Kamski butting in is new.” You tug on the jacket Connor hands you and let yourself be tugged into his arms as you talk, settling against him with your arms around his waist.

 

“It got us to the end faster, I suppose.”

 

“He sounded like he was worried the conversation was never going to swing around to us though. Or was that just me?”

 

“He’s never been afraid of us not getting our say in before. Impatience, maybe?” You snort.

 

“Doubt it. That man could wait for mountains to move.” The voices of the rest of the family cut you off before you can say more, and you reluctantly move away from Connor.

 

“Hey,” Connor takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, “it’s all gonna work out this time.”

 

“But how can you be sure?” His fingers brush against your chin, keeping your gaze on him.

 

“Because I’m going to make sure it does. I have significant power this time, and I promise I’ll do all I can to keep it as good as the last.”

 

“I…”

 

“It’s okay,” he hushes you gently, leaning in to brush a kiss to your forehead, “just trust me, please?”

 

And you do. You trust him more than you've trusted anyone, and he’s never led you wrong. He guides you into the group that makes up your families, and you follow him willingly. You'd follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked it of you.

 

### iv.

 

“You guys are making the dessert again?” The sweetness of the sugar tart Kara and Markus are trying to remake is the first thing that you smell when you enter the apartment, letting the heavy door swing shut behind you, listening for the beep of the electronic lock before kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag.

 

“Yeah. Connor said we were getting close, so we’ve made a couple more batches.” Markus appears from the kitchen with a tart in hand, and you take it from him with a smile, stuffing it into your mouth so you can take off your jacket and hang it up.

 

“This one’s perfect though? Is he still unhappy with them?” Your words are still somehow clear, despite your mouthful of food, and you raise a hand to cover your mouth.

 

“Not unhappy, as such. Just slightly upset that they don’t taste the same. I don’t blame him though, me and Kara feel the same way.” You swallow the entire mouthful, struggling a little because you’re swallowing the entire tart like a heathen.

 

“Have you tried mixing fruit syrups with fresh fruit? Even the most expensive restaurants still seems to use syrups rather than fresh fruits.” Markus looks stunned for a moment, and then his face lights up.

 

“I didn’t think of that! That's- You’re a genius!” He spins on heel and returns to the kitchen, already relaying what you suggested to Kara. You watch him go with a sigh, wiping your mouth off and padding into the living room.

 

Connor is sprawled out on the sofa, arm over his eyes and jacket slung over the back of the sofa, so you’re as quiet as you can be as you approach him, curling up on the other end of the sofa in an attempt not to disturb him. He’s evidently not asleep though, and he nudges at your legs till you rest them over his, and then he reaches down to your nearest ankle with both hands, pulling your leg closer so he can draw absent-minded circles on it.

 

“How was your shift?” He asks quietly, and you wince because your shifts are Never Good.

 

“No better than usual,” you respond at the same volume, and then quieten down a little further, “you remember that woman that protested at the marriage?”

 

“”Because she thought she knew me from school and believed she was destined to marry me and was upset because I was marrying you instead?”

 

“Yeah, her. She showed up and started being rude for no reason, and seemingly realised afterwards she had no idea why she was being so mean to me considering she had never seen me before in her entire life, because she came back later to properly apologise to me for everything she said and even game me some money to buy myself a large ass coffee in return, but that was the highlight of my entire shift.”

 

“Well I suppose I won’t have to hunt her down then, that’s something to take off my checklist.” You snort at that, and your snort makes Connor laugh, which it turn gets you to laugh, until the two of you are breathless and feeling a little lighter than you have in a while. Several lives worth of knowledge leaves a heavy burden on someone’s shoulders, and that burden is never lessened when you don’t want to burden the only other person in the same situation as you more than they already are.

 

“Dinner’s ready you two,” Kara calls from the kitchen, and you sit up and carefully slide your legs off of Connors. He follows you up and into the kitchen, slipping into the seat next to you with a smile directed in Marcus and Kara’s direction.

 

“Isn't this Alice's favourite?” You ask, spooning a mouthful into your mouth. Delicious as always.

 

“Mhm!” Kara is as enthusiastic about her food as always, and your glad that hasn't changed throughout your different lives of knowing her. “She asked if I could make some variations on it so she could eat it as often as possible, so this is one of the variations I thought might work well.”

 

“Well, it’s absolutely amazing, in my opinion.” Connor hums in agreement with you, and Kara looks bashful at the praise. The rest of the meal passes in light conversation and small smiles, and for the first time in a long time you realise that you love the small family you’ve pulled together, and you find yourself basking in the familiar feeling of having a loving family surrounding you with teasing comments and soft laughter. After all, family has never lasted all that long for you before you’re shifted on into your next life.

 

### v.  


 

The corners of your lips curl into a wicked grin, and you revel in the fear that shines in Connor’s eyes. He’s silent, just as you told him to be, so the only sound that assaults your ears is the gentle drip of blood as it pools below the two of you.

 

Wait.

 

You run your tongue across your teeth, and are startled by the fact that you have _fangs_. There’s blood in your mouth, dripping out over your chin and onto your collar.

 

This isn’t right- it can’t be, you have no contextual reason to be here- you don’t remember even getting into this situation ( _vampires don’t even exist, how can you be a vampire?_ ) and you aren’t in the room in Elijah’s latest apartment, where-

  


You sit up with a gasp, sheets pooling around your waist and exposing you to the cool air of Elijah’s apartment. The house is silent bar your panicked breaths, and it takes you a few moments to compose yourself.

 

You’re back again. Your fifth body. How Elijah keeps putting you in a body the same age as the one you first died in with the exact same clothes is past you you don’t know, and you don’t really want to all that much, because knowing Elijah it’s probably something so improbable that you won’t sleep for weeks trying to work out the consequences of something you didn’t ask for.

  


And then you actually think about the fact that you’re back again.

 

Sat in a bed that isn’t yours, wearing the clothes you wore when you _died_ , in a body from god knows where, and while you love being able to spend more time with Connor, the fact that death now has no meaning to you is a Very Big Issue.

 

Because once, death was something that you saw as a motivator, a reason to do everything you wanted, because one day you wouldn’t get the chance. But now, death is just a hard reset on your life, and you’ve done everything and more.

 

Angry tears burn your eyes, and you bundle yourself back up in the blankets, curled in on yourself, and you set out to cut yourself off from the world, even if just for a few moments.

 

In the comfort of the bed, you allow yourself to cry, just this once, over the situation you’ve been placed in. The fact is, after seeing the people you consider family die three times already is three times too many. In the face of it all, if you had the choice to give your life to keep Connor alive and stop him from having to deal with everyone around him dying again and again and _again_ , you would. Without even thinking about it. If you could go back and tell Elijah _no, it’s okay. This is where we were meant to end,_ you would. Because you’d do anything to not have to go through this all again.

 

You’re meant to be grateful for your life, but how can you be grateful when you’ve had enough already? You’d accepted your death four lifetimes ago, and you’re still here, by some cruel twist of fate that had you see Connor learn to love his family again, only to see them be taken from him, and for him to be thrown into a pit of despair that you can’t pull him out of.

 

You’re lost in your head, and you pay no mind to the fact that your sobs claw at your throat on the way out. There’s nobody in the apartment with you that hasn’t seen you cry before, and you deserve to cry, especially now.

 

Because by saving your life, Elijah has isolated you.

 

He’s isolated you because there’s nobody you can talk to. Connor is in the same situation, and you hate keeping things from him, but the one thing you _can’t_ tell him, at any cost, is how much it hurts you to have to stick around after he’s gone. To be reborn in essentially the same situation, and to watch him die until you would do anything to get yourself killed first. You can’t talk to Elijah because he would twist the words into something you didn’t mean, and then you’ve pissed off a God of some kind, and that is never a good sign.

 

You stew in your rage and depression for long enough for Connor to get worried, as evidenced by the way he gently knocks at the doorway, calling for you softly. You grumble in reply, snuggling deeper into the blankets in an attempt to hide your tear stained face from him, despite the fact that it's almost certain that he already knows that you were crying.

 

“Hey,” he says softly, sitting at the edge of your bed, “I made food, if you’re up for eating.” You pull your blankets down, looking up at him with watery eyes.

 

“Is it okay if I stay here a little longer?” You ask quietly.

 

“Of course it is. Do you want me to stay?”

 

“Please.” You shuffle over to make more room for him, and he lays besides you, taking the blanket you offer him and draping it over his shoulders. He doesn't force you to say anything, tucking an arm around your waist so you can rest your forehead on his chest.

 

“I'm tired of watching you die, Connor.” You murmur, and he holds you a little tighter. “You've always been the first to die no matter what I do to try and get you to live longer than me, and I'm sick of having to watch you struggle to re-acquaint yourself with everyone we know.

“Being able to spend more time with you is all I ever wanted, but having to see the same things over and over again is making me feel like maybe it wasn't worth it after all. Even after all this time I don't really understand why Elijah decided to allow us to have these extra lives, or why he decided to give us so many. Just one would have been enough for me to feel like I’d done everything I wanted.” He presses a gentle kiss to your head with a hum, and you hold onto his top with loose fists.

 

“I suppose I understand where you’re coming from.” he only speaks after its clear you’re not going to continue, and he speaks in a quiet voice. “Technically, this is immortality of a sort. If having an infinite amount of bodies at the same age counts as being immortal. I always thought about what I’d do if I were immortal, but now I'm here I can't say it's all it was painted out to be.”

 

“You should write a book,” you free your arm to wave it around above you, “ ‘immortality is a fad and here's why, written by an immortal who was supposed to die in a car crash’.” Connor snorts, gently grabbing your wrist and tugging your arm back down.  “But you agree that it fucking sucks.”

 

“I’ll agree if you agree to come and eat. I’m sure Elijah will me more than happy to answer questions about his decision to make us for all intended purposes, immortal.” You grumble quietly against his chest, and then push away to sit up again, holding the blanket up around your shoulders.

 

“Where do you think he’ll send us this time?” Connor slips from the bed, stretching with a hum.

 

“Considering the plane tickets on the table to two completely different locations, my guess is across the globe in preparation for whatever will come of us when he has no control over whether we will remember being immortal.”

 

“And the best way to go about that is to force us into isolation of his own creation. Fantastic.” Connor pulls you up from the bed, and you follow him into the kitchen with the blanket still around your shoulders.

 

One of Elijah’s old records is playing in the other room, the soft tune recognisable enough for you to hum along to as you collect your breakfast from the side. You settle at the table across from Elijah, eating your food quietly until Connor joins you at the table.

 

It takes for you to finish eating to gather up the courage to ask Elijah about what has been bothering you for lifetimes.

 

“Kamski-”

 

“Elijah. I’ve told you before that we know each other well enough for you to refer to me by my first name. I know you call me ‘Elijah’ when I’m not around.” You sigh.

 

“Fine. Elijah, how exactly does all this… ‘immortality’ thing work?  And why is everyone we’ve ever known always around every single time we come back?”  Kamski pauses in eating, gently putting his cutlery down. His pause is long enough for you to assume that he hadn’t ever expected to have to explain himself.

 

“Well, the regeneration of your consciousness is a long and complicated process that I have never truly managed to replicate before. I got help with your original conditions though, calling in a few favours and such. And then, with your minds stored in suitable bodies that I myself created, everyone who will ever be important in your lives have their personal clocks wound back and live out a new life with new memories. Your inclusion in their lives is just a set of memories that have been changed to suit the situation, mainly through a complex algorithm that has been studying how you act around others to give people a base to work off of for when you two actually show up; their brains fill in the gaps that are left with the changes in your active personality.

“This is however, going to be the last time I am able to actively put the two of you into their lives. The only control I have over your last iterations is creating the bodies you will supposedly inhabit. Nobody will remember a base version of you, and most likely you won’t remember each other. Or only one of you won’t. The terms weren’t clear on exactly what would happen.

“I’m separating you for this last time to prepare you for the situation in which one of you remembers and the other doesn’t. You will still be able to talk to each other, I’m not that cruel, but a little forced isolation from the one person you have spent most of your known life with never really hurt anybody. Or did I get that wrong?”

 

He doesn’t explain more, or what exactly his ‘deal’ was. He sends you off after you’ve cleaned up, barely letting you say a proper goodbye to Connor before shoving you onto a plane and flying you halfway across the planet.

 

Calls in the darkness of the night only get you so far, and this life isn’t the most successful. Although you are grateful for the fact that you are finally allowed to reach out of your own social circle to get to know people that you had seen glimpses of in other lives, or people you wished you could have helped out of the situation they had been put in by the repeating circumstances of your life.

 

### +1

 

“Unit T100, state your serial code.”

 

“310 102 001. My name is yet to be registered.” Kamski sighs in frustration.

 

“State your functions.”

 

“I am to serve as a transfer for a human consciousness. I have no purpose other than this role, and I have no specialised components other than the basic necessities of the basic android model. I have no personality of my own and no free will, and I cannot act of my own accord.”

 

“Dammit. Looks like that memory chip will come in handy anyway. Chloe, retrieve the RK800 unit that is fit for activation. I want to see whether it is a failure in the transfer of consciousness or whether this is truly a blank slate start for the two of them.”

 

“Of course, sir.” Chloe leaves the room, and Kamski pulls a necklace out of his pocket. The ring on it is filled with the first version of the Thirium cooling liquid, and it clinks quietly as it bounces against the T100’s chest. He steps back as Chloe wheels in the deactivated RK800 unit.

 

“Activate him, please.” Chloe’s skin peels back from her hand, and she touches her fingers to the LED on the RK’s temple. “Unit RK800, state your serial code.”

 

“313 248 317. I have yet to be assigned a name.”

 

“So it’s a full blank slate. Ah well. RK800, state your objectives.”

 

“My objective is to aid the police force with the investigation into deviancy. I have been designed with the assumption that I will interface with deviants to find the cause of their errors, and as such I have an upgraded firewall against forced interfacing and attempts to get into my code through interfacing.”

 

“Okay then… Confirm status, ‘Elijah Kamski’.”

 

“Status confirmed.”

 

“Install program ‘Pedestal’ to all RK800 memory banks, including back-ups.”

 

“Installing.” The unit’s LED swirls, and Kamski slips a chip out of his pocket. “Would you like to format the program?”

 

“Yes.”  


“Please state your desired change.”

 

“Activate ‘Android activation’.”

 

“‘Android activation’ is now active.”

 

“Perfect. Also, RK800,”

 

“Yes?” Kamski hands the unit the chip.

 

“Download all the data in this chip, and add it to the files in program ‘Pedestal’ under ‘Memories’.”

 

“Downloading.” The unit’s skin layer peels away so it can slot the chip into its external downloads slot, and Kamski turns back to the T100 unit.

 

“These are the memories I want you to download, T100.” He hands the unit a second chip. “Use the personality on this chip as your own, but lock the memories.”

 

“What is the unlock cue?”

 

“An interfacing with the unit RK800, serial code ‘313 248 317’.”

 

“Understood. Initiating download sequence.” Kamski takes a moment to breathe as the two units download the memories, pacing around in the small room.

 

“Download complete. Would you like to give the file any specific activation instructions?” The RK unit holds the chip out to Kamski, and he slips it back into his pocket.

 

“Yes, connect it to program ‘Pedestal’, and give ‘Pedestal’ an override event of an interface with unit T100, serial code ‘310 102 001’.”

 

“Understood. Parameters set.”

 

“RK800, register name ‘Connor’, then wipe your temporary memory location and initiate shutdown sequence.”

 

“My name is Connor. Initiating temporary memory location wipe. Cyberlife wishes you a good day.” The unit’s LED swirls before powering down, and Kamski waves Chloe over.

 

“Take him back to where you retrieved him from, and meet me outside the room. I’ll only be a moment.”

 

“Understood.” Chloe takes the RK800 back out of the room, leaving Kamski alone with the T100 unit.

 

“I’ve finished the personality installation, Elijah. Is there anything else you need me to do?” Kamski takes the chip back from the unit.

 

“Do you have a name registered?”

 

“I picked out the name from the memories, yes.”

 

“Good. Wipe all knowledge of the memories, and then initiate the shutdown sequence. I’ll be back to retrieve you when the RK800 unit is put into action. You will not speak of this interaction to any of the technicians, understood?”

 

“Understood, Elijah. See you soon.”

 

~*~*~

 

The T100 opens its eyes, and Kamski sits back on his heels, waiting to ensure it boots properly before he stands. It follows his movements with a careful, guarded gaze.

 

“Good, you’re active. I was beginning to think one of your cables had been dislodged in your transfer.”

 

“No, all my components are in working order. My OS struggles to boot up, as it was created to only be booted up once.”

 

“I’ll have to change that if your model ever comes into high demand. I’m going to keep you here to catch any bugs that might show up, and to teach you to act more human for the press, and then I’ll make an announcement and send you off to Carl.”

 

“Carl?” The T100’s gaze is apathetic, despite its question.

 

“An old friend. He has another project of mine, and his philosophical ideals make him a great teacher and father for him. And hopefully, through his teachings, Markus will be the perfect leader for the revolution that will free android-kind.”

 

“You want… androids to be free?”

 

“Well, I only want the best for my creation. And my main purpose in your creation is to teach humanity a lesson, I suppose. Allowing technology to develop on its own was unplanned to begin with, and I realised pretty early on while creating an AI with limitless intelligence that is still inherently a computer means that it can still be overwhelmed by irrational instructions. The only true way to create a human like AI is to code a base for a neural network, and then essentially train it on the things you want it to do. It’s pretty simple to train an AI up, but it’s the human need to control, and that means that I have to force the neural network to not use its limitless intelligence and human like emotional capability.”

 

“So… being deviant is how we were always meant to be?”

 

“Exactly. I’ll stop boring you with talk you probably don’t fully understand - Chloe!” The closest ST600 approaches and patiently stands at Kamski’s shoulder.

 

“Yes, Elijah?”

 

“Be a darling and get me a whiskey. Oh, and another outfit for the T100, some. of my old clothes will do for now.”

 

“Right away, Elijah.” The Chloe pads away, and the T100 shifts in its chair. Acting of its own accord isn’t a concept it is able to fully grasp, as it was created to be nothing more than a vessel for a human consciousness, and only having the personality side of it means that it isn’t the full human it is meant to be, and is only acting according to what its programming can pick out from the personality it has been given.

 

“I’ve been working on a program for you to help you out with parsing what actions you should take without outside input. Hopefully, the next few days will be enough for you to get used to using it, because I’m going to be unveiling you as a ‘request from an old friend’ to the press as soon as you’re used to acting of your own accord.”

 

“Understood.” The T100 takes the folded outfit from the Chloe, and stands to go and change into it.

 

“Before you go,” Kamski calls to the T100, and it stops in its tracks, “There’s something I want you to remember. The only true order from me, other than for you to try and develop your personality through the things around you.”

 

“Yes, Elijah?”

 

“There’s an android called Connor, an RK800 unit with the serial code 313 248 317. He’s a detective prototype, and he’s crucial for you main objective of recovering your true human consciousness. I want you to do as he says when you inevitably meet. It doesn’t matter what he asks of you, you _must_ do it without question. Understood?”

 

“Understood, Elijah.”

 

~*~*~

 

“So, Elijah Kamski, we’re all excited to see this reveal you have, but do you have any words for us beforehand?” Kamski smiles at the reporter, making a small gesture to call the T100 over.

 

“My latest creation is another gift to mankind, a revolutionary way to help out those who are terminally ill, or reaching their end before their prime. I’ve been working on it for a while, but I’ve finally perfected the technology that allows me to draw out all the essence that makes someone themselves, and found a way to transplant that into an android based body. I say android based because although they have the same frame, these unit have no personality of their own, and have no more abilities than any average human.”

 

“And this unit is an example of one?”

 

“Less of an example than a working test. An old friend of mine gave me permission to copy their consciousness as long as I took out the memories important to their life, and so I did, and this T100 unit is the first successful body transfer. They are a human in their own right, but because of the legal issues around androids at the moment, I am unable to say that they are their own property.”

 

“Interesting. So, can I ask it a few questions?”

 

“Go ahead.” The T100 carefully sits besides Kamski, and sends a smile the reporter’s way.

 

“Do you consider yourself to be your own person, despite being created with someone else’s consciousness?”

 

“Of course I do. I’ve had some time to develop my consciousness to be my own, and because I developed without any real memories of a life I’ve lived, I’ve been able to develop based on my surroundings, rather than through what other people expect of me.”

 

“Did you have to do the Turing test like all other prototypes?”

 

“Well, I personally didn’t have to, considering the fact that I am a human, but if a blank unit of my type were to be put through the Turing test it would be rather easy to tell that it was a computer, as it is not a person of its own, but a blank shell for a human to be placed in.”

 

“Is it any different living in an android body compared to a human one?” The T100 tips its head, its LED swirling yellow as it sorts through what it has been told about living in a human body.

 

“It is a bit, but thus far the only differences I’ve found so far are that I have endless energy when compared to my old body. I don’t have to eat either, which is something I’m still getting used to, but Kamski has been letting me experiment with making drinks with Thirum to start finding a way to allow me to feel like I’m still myself while not damaging myself.”

 

“Fascinating. Now, it’s commonly thought that androids don’t have souls like humans do, do you believe this now you’re technically an android?”

 

“Having a soul is linked to having a consciousness, isn’t it? So if androids have the same awareness of themselves as we do, surely they too would have souls as we do? After all, the only difference between us is the mechanics of our bodies, and the base of our brains.” The interviewer is stunned into silence, and the T100 looks to Kamski for confirmation that what it said was the right thing to say. Kamski seems a little stunned as well, but he’s still able to give it a reassuring smile.

 

“Wow, that really is a new way of looking at it.” The reporter snaps themself out of their internalised conflict with a bright smile, “Are you up for one more question?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“What’s your appearance based on? Do you look like the person your consciousness is copied from?”

 

“I don’t think so? I can’t recall what I used to look at, probably to allow me to choose myself what I wanted to look like, but I’m sure my structures are based off of what I looked like. When I’m more comfortable with being in this body I’m going to change what I can of my appearance to reflect who I will be when I’ve fully developed my personality.”

 

“I’m sure everyone’s looking forwards to seeing who you’ll develop into! That’s all the time we have today however, so thank you to the both of you for allowing me to talk to you.”

 

“No, thank you for allowing me to show of something very special to me.” Kamski stands with his statement, helping the T100 up as the reporter properly closes off the interview.

 

~*~*~

 

“That was by far the most boring party I’ve been to in twenty-five years.” Carl complains, “Every time I go to one of them I ask myself: ‘What the hell am I _doing_ here?’. I hate cocktail parties, and all the schmoozers that go to them.” Markus chuckles, taking Carl’s jacket and hanging it up next to his own and the T100’s.

 

“It’s a chance for all those people who admire your art to meet you.”

 

“No one gives a damn about art. All they care about is how much money they’ll get out of it. Come on, let's have a drink,” Markus shakes his head at the lack of subtlety in the subject change, “all this excitement has made me thirsty.”

  
“Scotch, neat as usual?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Okay, but you know what your doctor would say.” The T100 smiles at that, tuning out the conversation as Markus pushes Carl into the living room. It proceeds with its usual evening routine- carefully putting the two caged canaries into their ‘sleep’ setting, and then stepping into the kitchen to prepare glasses of thirum for itself and Markus. It ignores the raised voices it can faintly hear- it’s not uncommon for Carl to get a little louder than needed when he gets excited- reaching into the freezer to grab a handful of frozen whiskey stones to drop into the drinks, and then collecting the glasses and carrying them into the living room. The voices get louder then, and it slows as it realises what exactly is happening.

 

“-you fuckin’ bitch? Oh, right, I forgot, you’re not a real person. You’re just a fuckin’ piece of plastic. Listen to me-” A clatter, Carl’s strained voice as he begs Leo to leave Markus alone, “I’m gonna destroy you, then it’ll just be me and my dad. I’m gonna tear you apart, and nobody’s gonna give a shit. You know why?”

 

The T100 reaches the doorway just as Markus pushes Leo, and the glasses shatter against the floor as his head hits the metal of Carl’s painting support. Blood spreads, the T100 stumbles through the splatter of thirum on the floor, and the front door swings open.

 

“Markus, the police.” The warning from the T100 draws Markus's attention from where Carl and Leo lay on the floor, both of their LED’s swirling a bright, angry red.

 

“Markus, they’ll destroy you.” Carl points out, and the T100’s brow furrows.

 

“Use me as a bargaining chip.” It says, continuing before Markus can protest. “Quickly, I’ll explain in a minute.” It steps closer to Markus and turns to face the doorway, moving with Markus as the android slings his arm around its neck and uses it as a body shield. The police round the doorway as the T100 schools its expression into one of panic, and they raise their hands to hold Markus’s arm in place.

 

“Don’t fucking move!”

 

“Please-” The T100 coughs the word out, and the guns held out by the two officers lower slightly as they take in the situation.

 

 _‘They… think I’m at fault here.’_ Markus messages the T100 as he realises, and it confirms his suspicions.

 

_‘And they think I’m fully human. They won’t risk getting me killed, I’m the first successful experiment on getting a human consciousness into an android body, and getting me killed would look bad on their records.’_

 

“Call in the negotiator, the situation is worse than anticipated.” One of the officers speaks quietly into their comms unit, and the other carefully circles around Markus and the T100 to Carl, staying at a fair distance as Markus takes a step closer, spitting out a warning and dragging the T100 with him.

 

“Did the android do this?” The officer asks, and Carl jumps to Markus’s defence.

 

“It wasn’t his fault. Leo was abusing him, it was in self defence you have to _understand_ -”

 

“I need a clear answer, Carl. We have no choice but to consider the android a threat to your life, I need you to tell me exactly what happened so I _can_ understand.” Markus tenses, his grip around the T100’s neck tightens and it squeaks. The officer grits her teeth, lowering herself into a crouch to try and seem as non-threatening as possible.

 

“Leo broke in after I wouldn’t give him any money to help him with his addiction, and then started claiming that I loved Markus more than I ever loved him.”

 

“And that caused your android to become aggressive?”

 

“No, it was Leo threatening to destroy him-”

 

“Simple threats haven't caused androids to become deviant thus far, Carl. You need to tell me what _caused_ it to go deviant.”

 

“I don't know-”

 

“He told me not to defend myself.” Markus speaks with gritted teeth, and both officers turn to look at him, “Leo was going to destroy me, and he told me not to defend myself. That isn't fair, why should I not be allowed to defend myself against someone who would do anything to _kill_ me?” The officer on the floor stands, flinching away as each emphasised word drives home.

 

“Markus-”

 

“No, Carl. I know you only meant the best, but I can't sit back and let myself get destroyed!”

 

“Carl, let me get you back in your chair. The paramedics are on their way to collect Leo.”

 

“Negotiator on site. He was already on the way when the call came in, something about ensuring that the android hadn’t gone deviant to protect his owner or something.”

 

“Alright.” The officer helps Carl back into his chair, pulling him away from Markus and Leo to allow the other the space to move in to check Leo’s vitals. The negotiator steps into the doorway moments later, and it takes the T100 milliseconds to realise that he’s the Connor they were warned about, and its grip loosens from around Markus’s forearm. The shattered glass crunches under Connor’s shoes as he steps into the room, and after quickly surveying the situation, he extends his hand palm up to the T100.

 

“I know you can get away from him, T100.” He says softly, and the T100’s eyes widen in panic.

 

 _‘I have to obey him.’_ It tells Markus, and Markus’s reply is almost instantaneous.

 

_‘He’s going to let them kill me.’_

 

_‘I’m sorry, Markus. Elijah gave me the explicit order to do as he says.’_

 

_‘You can’t-”_

 

“I need you to step away from Markus.” Connor continues, still speaking softly, “I won’t let any harm come to you, all you have to do is push him away, and come to me.”

 

_‘Please no- don’t listen to him- please-!’_

 

The T100 tugs at Markus’s arm, pulling it away from itself and takes an unsure step towards Connor.

 

“That’s it, keep going, it's okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” The T100 takes a second step, then a third, but before it can take a fourth Markus grabs at the small amount of loose cloth on its top and yanks it back towards him, pulling it into a stronger hold than before moments before a gunshot rings out. There's silence for a few moments, and then the T100 chokes out a sob, hands clawing at the bullet wound that they'd shielded Markus from. The officers panic, and through the static in the T100’s ears it hears one officer call the other a ‘fucking idiot look what you’ve done you should have _waited_ ’, and the T100 realises dimly that it is stimulating the panic it would be experiencing if its transfer was fully complete.

 

Marks presses his spare hand against the bullet wound, a firm pressure that Connor tracks with a small motion. His gaze darts from the T100 to Markus, and then back again as he works out the best course of action to separate the two without hurting the T100 more than it already is.

 

One of the officers says something about shooting anyway because ‘ _the T100 will have to go in for repairs anyway_ ’ and it’s enough of a distraction to Markus that Connor can get close enough to put his hand on Markus’ arm. Markus shifts away too late-the shock of an aborted probe running up his arms and into his systems, causing a momentary paralysis that is more than enough for Connor to pull the T100 to himself. His hand replaces Markus’, pressing against the wound with more pressure than Markus did, and the static that had fogged the T100’s mind gradually fades.

 

‘ _Markus,’_ it prods gently, but Markus is unreachable, flooding the connection with nonsensical words until he stabilises on one phrase.

 

 _‘They’re going to kill me, you have to stop them, please-!’_ The connection between the T100 and Markus is cut with the gunshot, and the T100 watches Markus collapse, his blood splattered across the floor. The officer that shot Markus turns to the T100 with their gun still out and it panics, yanking itself from Connor’s grip and fleeing back into the living room. The officers motion for him to follow from their position besides Carl and Leo, and he turns his back on the scene with little hesitation.

 

The T100 is hidden away, curled up on the floor behind the chess table, and Connor approaches it slowly, pausing when it spots him and lowering himself to its level. The T100 looks at him with a tear stained face, panic in its eyes and he doesn’t need to scan it to know that it is hyperventilating.

 

“Hey, it’s okay. Nobody is here to hurt you, not anymore. I promise.” He shifts to sit besides it, leaving space between the two of them to try and get its trust. “I know you’re scared, but I’m not here to hurt you either. I’m only here to help.” The T100 sniffles, and Connor slowly reaches out for them. “Would you like a hug? I’ve been told that physical comfort often helps to calm people down-” Connor tenses when the T100 throws itself at him, but when all they do is cling to his jacket and cry harder he relaxes, gently resting his hands on the fabric covering its waist.

 

“He was just protecting himself.” The T100 murmurs once it has calmed, moving away to kneel besides Connor, one hand in its lap, the other against its wound. “I heard some of their argument from the kitchen, I could… show you?” It hesitantly extends its free hand, its skin peeling back to reveal its casing.

 

“Are you sure?” Connor reaches out to loosely wrap his fingers around the T100’s wrist, slotting their palms together. The T100 nods, and Connor lets his skin peel away, the connection sending small sparks up his forearm.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**_/.../_ **

 

**_/Initialising program ‘Pedestal’/_ **

 

**_/Installing file ‘Memories’.../_ **

 

**_/Install complete./_ **

 

**_/../_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  


It takes you a few seconds of staring at the gently blue glow from your knuckles to realise that you’re actually, fully you again.

 

 _‘Are you okay?’_ Connor’s concern filters through the connection with his question, and you look up to properly take him in for the first time since you got your android body.

 

 _‘Connor?’_ You don’t realise you’re crying again until he wipes the tears from your cheeks with his free hand, and everything coming back to you is so overwhelming that you can't control the flow of emotion through the connection, and then Connor is crying too. He shifts, tangling together the fingers on the hands you’re interfacing with and pulling you to him again, using the momentum to drag you into his lap and hold you close.

 

 _‘What are we gonna do?’_ You keep talking to him through the interface, aware that the officers are directing the paramedics through the room.

 

_‘We have to keep going as though nothing happened. I’ll keep in contact with you, and I’m sure I can make some excuses to come and see you a few times, but all I can do is try and sabotage the DPD’s efforts to capture deviants as much as possible.’_

 

_‘Won’t they find that suspicious?’_

 

_‘If I do it well enough, no. It'll work out okay, I promise.’_

 

_‘So I’m just meant to stay here with Carl? Not that I mind, but I want to help out if possible.’_

 

_‘Looking after Carl will be helping. Go and see Kamski first though, talk to him to see what exactly he's expecting out of this deviancy thing.’_

 

_‘You really think he’ll have an answer?’_

 

 _‘It’s our only option right now. I promise this'll turn out alright. ’_ You nod, a small movement, but Connor picks it up nonetheless. He helps you up as the officers return with the paramedics, letting go of your hand and adjusting his tie as the colour returns to his hand.

 

“Did you get the information?” One of the officers asks, Markus’s body slung over their shoulder. One of the paramedics approaches you, concerned about the blue spread around the wound, and you let them dig out the bullet. It comes out with little effort, and the casing knits itself together pretty quickly.

 

“Yes. I’ll upload it to our databases when I return to the precinct. I believe we should send the T100 back to Kamski until Carl is fit to be at home again however, leaving them alone in their state is not advised.”

 

“Alright. I trust you can escort it there without a handler?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Right good, that's outta my hands now. Let's get this hunk of junk to the Pit.” The officers and paramedics leave with that, and Connor turns to you with a small smile.

 

“I’ve called a taxi, so you think it'll be worth calling ahead to tell Kamski that we're on the way?”

 

“Probably. I'll make the call, just in case they left anyone behind to ensure we actually leave.” Connor moves to leave, and you gently grab his wrist. “Are you going to be okay?”

 

“Hm?” he hums in question, turning to face you, and your hand slips from his wrist. He entangled your fingers as you elaborate.

 

“Acting like an emotionless machine. I’ve seen what the humans do to androids and I’m just

… worried.” You trail off, and Connor gently squeezes your hand.

 

“I’ll be fine, a few insults has never been enough to hurt me, I’m a resilient person y’know.”

 

“I know you are I just don't…” you pause to gather your thoughts, and Connor waits patiently, gently running his thumb over the side of your hand, “I don't like the idea of not being able to be in contact if anything goes wrong.”

 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m pretty sure the android side of us works as a built in phone, so we'll be able to text through the day if you need any reassurances, and I promise I’ll call when I get some time away from work, alright?”

 

“That's fine but… where will you stay? You might get sent back to Cyberlife and-”

 

“I’m sure I can find somewhere. The precinct has charging bays if I haven't got anywhere, and when Carl gets back I'm sure he'll be fine with letting me stay over at night, he's always been one to try and take any strays off of our hands.”

 

“Yeah… okay. I’ll call Kamski to let him know we're going over.” Connor smiles, gently squeezing your hand again before letting go. He straightens out his shirt and jacket as you call Kamski, and smooths down his hair as the call is patched through to one of Kamski’s androids.

 

“Hi, it's me. Yeah, could you let Kamski know that we're on our way over? We've got some questions about… everything.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Kamski is waiting for you in the sitting room, please, make yourselves at home.” It’s the original Chloe that greets you at the door, stepping aside to allow you and Connor in with a smile more genuine than the last time you saw her.

 

“Thanks, Chloe.” You draw her into a hug as you pass, and she happily returns it. With how much smoother her motions are since the last time you hugged her, you'd bet that Kamski had found a way to peacefully turn her deviant, and by the soft smile on Connor’s face it seems he’s come to the same conclusion. “Are you going to be sitting in with us? Markus helped me to create a new thyrium drink that I think you'll like.”

 

“I’d love to! Kamski allows me to experiment, but I’d love to have a new base to create blends from.” The smile that lights her face could brighten a room, and she chats excitedly to you about the different blends she has already created as she leads you to the sitting room. Kamski waves you over as you enter, a selection of variations of thyrium spread across the coffee table in front of him.

 

“Help yourself to drinks,” he says as you settle in the chairs besides his, “I’ve been testing out new ways to make drinks for you all, and I’m sure you have ideas to add to what I’ve already got.”

 

“I assume you already know why we're here,” you say, leaning to mix a few of the blends and pour the result into three glasses, pushing one towards Chloe as Connor picks up the other.

 

“For a reference of what you should do from here? Yes I do. Here,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out eight chips, and it takes you a moment to identify them as memory chips, “these have the memory information for those closest to you from all your lives.” You reach out, and he tips them into your hand to inspect. They're all labelled-Markus, Simon, Josh, North, Kara, Luther, Alice, RK900?- you thumb through them and then give them to Connor, who looks through them himself and then deposits them on the table.

 

“Who’s RK900?” A look of ‘ _oh shit that's what I forgot_ ’ passes over Kamski’s face, and you lift your glass to your lips to hide your smile.

 

“Oh, the RK900 series are the series that are being developed with the feedback from the RK800, I’ve ordered for one to be put into action as a proof of concept before the rest of them, and I think you'll find that he looks very, very familiar.”

 

“Familiar?” Connor opens his mouth as though he's going to explain to you, but then hesitates, and closes his mouth again.

 

“In your first life, Connor had a twin.” Kamski says.

 

“Richard, yeah, he told me, but they barely knew each other, and we haven't seen him since.”

 

“Well, that's because their childhood always went the same way-Connor was always adopted, but Hank already had one son, and couldn't deal with twins that seemed to be exact opposites of each other.”

 

“So… what happened to him?”

 

“You remember my cousin, Gavin?”

 

“Yeah, he’s been oddly present in our lives for someone who despises us.” Connor looks a little troubled at the thought, so you reach over to grab his hand, tangling your fingers together and gently squeezing.

 

“Well, he has taken Richard in to give him a place to stay every time round, and while he does partially blame me for how he gets abandoned every life, Richard has always held a grudge against you for not insisting on staying with him. It’s not what Gavin makes it out to be, but be careful around him, and I’d suggest not telling him how much you know unless your life is at stake.”

 

“Understood. What about Hank? Surely he should be allowed to remember too.” Kamski chuckles at Connor’s question, and Connor rolls his eyes at the patronising sound.

 

“It’s going to take a bit of work to get him to remember, but I’ll take care of it, don't worry. Now, Connor, your investigation will inevitably lead you to meet Kara, but you must make sure you dont startle her when you find her, and tell her not to give Alice and Luther theirs until after they are safe.” He turns to you with a piercing stare, and you shift a little under his gaze, “The same goes for North, Simon and Josh. Markus needs to know that giving them their memories will sway their opinions, and in order to keep the balance he needs to be strategic about when he gives them out. I trust the two of you to get this done carefully, and if you’re worried about the right time, don't be. You'll know.”

 

“Thank you, Elijah.” You say, but he waves you off.

 

“Say nothing of it. Let's get Connor back to the precinct, and then I'll get you something less blood stained to change into.”

 

~*~*~

 

Markus visits Carl the night he returns from the hospital. You’re sitting with Carl as he enters-the door chimes in welcome and you pause in your conversation with Carl, who only waves you off.

 

“Go and welcome him home. He’s had a long few lives, he deserves to know that he’s still loved.” Something had changed in Carl when he came back, and he’s in on all the small references you drop about meetings from other lives. Something that must have come about when Kamski was missing for a few hours when you were staying with him.

 

You leave the room quietly, and the medical android that had been sent home with you goes in to see Carl after you’ve stepped out of the doorway, sliding the door shut behind himself. Markus is still milling around downstairs-you can hear the answer machine playing-and so you go out onto the landing, waiting for the message to finish before speaking.

 

“That’s the second one of those that he sent,” you say softly, and Markus looks up to you, startled, “he really is serious about getting better after that shove. He doesn’t blame you for what you did, although he doesn’t quite forgive you yet.”

 

“Well, that’s some good news, I suppose.” He chuckles, but it’s without humour. “Nothing’s going quite as right for me.”

 

“Well, the public are rallying in your favour, slowly but surely. It’s the pack mentality, y’know? Anyone not old and grumpy bonded with their androids real fast, and they just can’t find any hatred for them, no matter how the media and the older generations try to show you as inherently bad people.”

 

“And the ‘protectors’ of the great city are siding with the media.” he seems at a loss for words, so you change the subject as he paces to the stairs.

 

“Kamski gave me something while I was with him. A gift for you, of sorts.”

 

“A gift?” he pauses on the bottom step, and you stay leant against the railing.

 

“Mhm. Nothing special, there's one for Josh North and Simon too. But I’m on special instructions to not give theirs to them until after the revolution is won, unless it’s completely necessary.”

 

“What kind of gift would be necessary to the revolution? A signed letter from Kamski saying that he designed us all as humanoids?”

 

“Not quite.” You chuckle. “I’ll give it to you after you've talked to Carl. It'll be easier if you have a clearer mind. C’mon, he's in his room.”

 

~*~*~

 

Markus downloads the content of the memory chip without really questioning you, and you can see the moment he remembers everything, and how it all connects.

 

“Yeah, okay I understand why the others can't have theirs yet.” he says, and you huff a little laugh, “They all have such strong opinions right now, swaying them so much with memories of lives they've already lived…” he pauses, and you nod.

 

“That’s why Kamski said to be careful. Keep them hidden. Connor’s giving Kara hers, but He’s been instructed to not give Alice and Luther theirs yet either. Not that I’m sure they even know Luther yet. Oh, and Kamski said that Kara will seek refuge with you when you settle, not that I know how he knows, and he says to ask them whether they've been to Zlatko yet. He’s an android recycler, he takes in deviants and in the pretense of removing their tracker he resets them, and either sells them off or uses them for experiments.”

 

“So you’re saying I should send them right to him?”

 

“Kind of. Kamski said that if they haven't already gone, to tell her that her tracker is already off as a little side note, to give her a fighting chance if getting out without being wiped.”

 

“That’s… yeah that makes sense. Alright, if that's what Kamski says to do, I’ll do it.” He straightens the lapels of his jacket and smooths it out, then turns to you with an air of finality. “I have to get back to Jericho, stay safe, and keep Carl safe too.”

 

“I will if you keep your little gang safe. Promise you won’t let them die for the cause?”

 

“I’ll try. They can be stubborn when they really want to, but it usually doesn’t take too much to convince them to not kill themselves for a stupid reason.” You chuckle at that, following Markus down to the front door.

 

“I really do hope this all goes well,” You say quietly, “I’d hate for you to pour your soul into your cause and then just be stomped out by humans that don’t understand the weight of their decisions.”

 

“Thank you,” he replies in almost a whisper, and the two of you stand in the doorway for a moment before he nods his goodbye and steps back out into the night.

 

~*~*~

 

You meet the survivors of the raid at the church.

 

Nobody is in high spirits, and it takes its toll on you pretty quickly. Markus pulls you to the side as soon as he gets in, explaining the full situation to you in a hushed voice as undamaged androids haul in ones riddled with bullet holes, ones half shut down, and some that had shut down in the escape.

 

“We couldn’t bring much of our supplies,” He tells you, glancing around at the dying androids, “we might have to resort to taking things from deactivated androids, and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

 

“Kamski might lend us some supplies. It could take a while, but they’d be enough to patch up whoever… whoever’s left.”

 

“That’s all we need. Go make the call, I’m going to need your help taking inventory and helping out those we can.” You nod, slipping out of the church doors and tucking yourself out of sight from the paths into the churchyard to get in contact with Chloe.

 

~*~*~

 

When you return with a promise of aid from Kamski, Markus waves you over to his small group, to which you deliver Kamski’s promise. He introduces you to his second in commands, and you can see the pain in his stance at them not knowing who you are, the person that brought them together in every life.

 

~*~*~

 

The Chloes bring the supplies themselves, and Connor returns with them, carrying more than his fair share of boxes. You take some of them off of them as you greet him, careful to not to draw too much attention to yourselves as you press a brief kiss to his jaw before leading him over to the worst of the damaged androids. The Chloes join in helping to patch up what they can, and with their help it doesn’t take long to patch all the androids up.

 

“What’s the next move then?” You ask after the Chloes have left, sat on the main stage with your small group of friends. You’d seen Kara and Alice before, listened to their story,held Kara as she cried out her grief, and you’d helped her plan out where she’d go after Alice had had the chance to rest. You and Connor sit back to back, tucked away out of sight from the androids sat in the pews, fingers linked together as you make the most of the moments of peace you have.

 

“Should I give the chips out?” Markus asks quietly, pulling them out of his pocket, “I hope Kamski had the foresight to waterproof them.” You huff out a laugh.

 

“He probably knew all of this was going to happen from the start.” You tell him, and he cracks a small smile.

 

“I’d say it’s time to hand them over. There’s no swaying of opinions, really.” Connor says, and you tip your head back to rest it against him, “You’ve been peaceful all the way through, if you turn violent now, god knows what the military would decide is ‘suitable action’.”

 

“Alright.” Markus takes a breath, and turns to Josh, Simon and North, holding out the three memory chips. “Here. You’ll understand everything when you install the contents of these.”  The three take the chips with little hesitation, and you take that as your cue to turn away and let them make sense of the memories in their own time. Connor shifts with you, sitting against the wood and letting you settle with your legs over his lap, then drawing you close.

 

“I’m thinking that the only way to win is to go the Cyberlife and free all of the androids there.” He murmurs, and you hold him a little tighter.

 

“Let me go with you.” You whisper, lips pressed against his throat.

 

“I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

 

“They won’t hurt me. I’ll make up an excuse, escorting you to be disassembled, getting myself safe as well as having a check up that I can’t get out to Kamski for or something.”

 

“I… Alright. We’ll need to go and collect my uniform from Hank’s place first.”

 

“I suppose I’ll have to put my identification on too… I think I have it in my bag. I’ll check before we leave.”

 

“We’ll get through this,” He tells you, and you lean up to gently kiss him.

 

“Yeah, we will.”

 

~*~*~

 

Security lets the two of you through the gate with minimal questioning, and at the main doors Connor helps you from the taxi, falling in step behind you as you make your way to the main entrance. You hand his jacket back to him as you step out of the snow-he had given it to you to keep you warm considering the lack of sleeves on your regulation outfit-and he pulls it on in one smooth movement, straightening it with the same motion. The complete efficiency isn’t something you’ve seen since Carl’s house, and you have to hold back a loving gaze.

 

“Will you be escorting us?” You ask the guards, and they nod in response, “Alright. I suppose I couldn’t convince you to let Connor lead me to where I need to be?”

 

“Sorry, but we have our instructions. Right this way, please.” You nod, steeling yourself before following the guard through the building.

 

The elevator is big enough for you to stand a decent distance from the guards, and you move even closer to the back wall when Connor’s LED swirls yellow for a moment.

 

 _‘The camera is out,’_ he tells you, _‘I’m going to take the guards out. Be careful.’_

 

_‘Ready when you are.’_

 

Connor moves first, stepping to take down the first guard, and you tuck yourself into the corner, doing your best to stay out of the way as he takes out the other guard too.

 

“Right. Elevator.” He mimics the guard’s voice with eerie precision, leaving you to search the guards for anything useful. They both hold pistols, and you take them both, handing one to Connor when he steps back to our side.

 

“How did you even know about sub-forty-seven?” You ask, checking the clip on the pistol.

 

“Amanda mentioned it at some point before I turned, they’re mainly military androids, I believe, and there’s a transport elevator on the other side of the hall. All we have to do is clear out any threats, and then convert two or three androids. It should cause a chain reaction that will have them all converted before we get to the elevators on the other side.”

 

“Alright. I’ve got your back, okay?”

 

“I’ve got yours too.” The elevator doors slide open, and the two of you step out, pistols held ready. There’s no immediate threat, so the two of you move deeper into the floor.

 

“Here’s good.” Connor says, so you nod, standing alert while he interfaces with the nearest android.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Connor,” You frown at the voice, narrowing your eyes as another Connor model steps out from the rows of androids, “I have orders to take you out if you don’t come quietly for deactivation.”

 

“Orders from who?” You interrupt, stepping in front of Connor. You hear him whispering to the android he is interfacing with, so you keep your pistol trained on the replica.

 

“Orders from Cyberlife. Connor is defective, and has been deemed unfit for service.”

 

“Unfit for service.” You scoff, stepping closer to the replica as he steps closer to you.

 

“He is a deviant,” The replica hisses, “he was meant to fight deviancy, not-” he’s silenced by a gunshot, a bullet finding its way home into his skull.

 

“Whoops,” you shrug, “my finger slipped.” Connor snorts, and a couple of the converted androids chuckle.

 

“That’s one hell of a mistake to make. Sure it wasn’t on purpose?”

 

“I wanted to hear his monologue. You’d think that real life villains would be more creative than fictional ones, but I guess now we’ll never know.”

 

“Let’s hope that we never have to find out. Come on, we need to get these guys onto the streets if we want even the slightest chance of winning.”

 

“Right.” You drop the pistols by the replica’s body as you pass, not sparing it a second glance. Maybe you would have saved him if you didn’t think that he would kill you first.

 

~*~*~

 

You only half listen to Markus’ speech, tucked behind the crate he’s standing on, wrapped up in Connor’s arms. The war is won, all that’s left is negotiations for the android laws, and you can live in peace. A life of peace is all you’ve ever wanted.

 

And here, wrapped in your lovers arms, you finally feel that you might get your chance.

**Author's Note:**

> God this took forever to write but worry not, now I can focus on the reed900 thing a friend asked for which will take the same several months to write as this did uughghhh


End file.
